


Worth 40,000 Units

by HolmesHarleyWatson



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Anal Sex, Gay Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Romance, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-06-10 20:48:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19515283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolmesHarleyWatson/pseuds/HolmesHarleyWatson
Summary: What if Gamora and Peter discover that they really don't have a "thing", unspoken or otherwise? What if another friendship between Peter and Rocket unexpectedly blossomed into something more?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zyn_the_Wolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zyn_the_Wolf/gifts).



Hello Guys! So, imma be honest here and make a confession; the only thing sexier than a guy you crush on making out with a OC female character or a canon female character that you pretend is you is TWO GUYS YOU CRUSH ON MAKING OUT WITH EACH OTHER IN A FANFIC. THUS; This Pocket (Peter/Rocket) fic is born! (And oh how I would LOVE to be in the middle 😉 )

Chapter 1: 40,000 Units (Or, as I like to call it; Gamora who????)

“Quill, what part of go left didn’t you understand? The ‘GO’ or the ‘LEFT’????” Rocket shouted his frustration, as he tapped into the Milano’s navigations array, manually entering the coordinates for the next jump, which was 10 clicks away from their current position.  
“I got a little distracted when you landed in my lap when we took that heavy artillery blast back there Ranger Rick,” Quill said irritably, hitting the control for the thrusters much harder than was necessary.  
“Well I’m sorry Star-Munch, when you only weigh about seventy pounds you tend to get a little airborne when your ship is hit with class three Necroblast! Maybe if I wasn’t doing everything around here---  
“Cease your infernal yammering and fly the ship!” Drax shouted over the blasts of the laser cannon he was currently gunning.  
“Look nipple boy, nobody asked you to stick your dick into anything! Just aim, fire, and keep your trap shut!” Rocket bit out, taking Helm Control from Peter and making the jump; effectively cutting off the blasts from the encroaching Badoon fighter-pilots and firing a matrix flux destabilizer into the jump point; effectively toasting the Badoon’s only avenue of pursuit.  
“Do not call me nipple boy furry little beast,” Drax replied angrily, disengaging cannon fire and relocking the weapon before shutting it down. Rocket threw the nav into auto pilot and slid out of his seat, fur bristling on end as he strode off towards the stairs leading to the ship’s habitat level.  
“Rocket, where the hell are you going? We’re due to land on Taltare 3 in under an hour.” Peter reminded him.  
“Oh please, who the fuck needs me up here? I’m just a furry little fuckin beast that’s in everybody’s fuckin way.” He growled, taking the steps two at a time and shoving past Gamora, who was on her way up to the bridge.  
“Rocket? Rocket, wait! Damnit. Gams, can you take helm control for a minute?” Peter asked, unbuckling himself and signing off so she could sign on and adjust the controls to her specifications.

Rocket locked the door to his quarters behind him and ripped off his aero-rig, tossing it onto his desk before kicking open a chest at the foot of his bed and digging out the bottle he had hidden at the bottom. He threw himself into his recliner and snatched up one of the many shot glasses he always kept stocked in one of the drawers, tossing back a shot of Xandarian whiskey and enjoying the burn he felt as it made its syrupy-sweet way down his throat.  
“Definitely worth the 200 units!” He sighed, slamming down another round; a pair of azure eyes alight with mischief popping into his mind uninvited. It decidedly didn’t help that less than ten minutes ago, he hand landed ass-first into the plush, yet firm lap that belonged to that set of eyes and had felt the semi-hard cock of the object of his fantasies of late through the tight fabric of Peter Quills well defined blue jeans.  
Rocket didn’t know exactly when or how it began, but he had been experiencing these particular feelings and fantasies for the better part of at least a year now if he tried to think about this issue chronologically. It had really begun when Quill and Gamora had mutually decided that they didn’t have a thing to pursue after all, unspoken or otherwise, but had decided to remain good friends and colleagues because their tight-knit little group was a family, and they worked well together despite the occasional insult tossed around during the heat of battle. Since they had mutually decided to be friends, Peter had begun spending more time hanging out with Rocket. At first, Rocket was just enjoying the camaraderie and the presence of another drinking buddy since Groot was still just beginning to bud and wouldn’t be able to fill that particular role the way he used to in the raccoonoids life. It had become a bit more complicated when Quill began sitting in his room to chill and watch him build different forms of artillery or sitting on his workbench and passing him tools when Quill was off duty and Rocket was tinkering around making ships repairs. They had kept going on R&R to different bars and clubs wherever they landed, collecting shot glasses from what they had coined their universal pub-crawl, and the best development had happened by accident 6 months ago when Rocket had come across an amazing Terran collection of horror and Sci-fi movies and television shows and had purchased the lot; downloading the movies into their holo-imaging projector, accidentally creating their traditional weekly movie night which Peter never missed unless they were on a mission, in which case they both had to postpone. Rocket was brought out of his reverie when his door chime sounded, causing him to chuck the shot glass at it as hard as he could; watching with satisfaction when it shattered into millions of shiny little pieces.  
“Piss off!” He growled, taking a hit straight from the bottle now that he had broken his glass and was too lazy/comfortable to get up and grab a new one.  
“Rocket come on! Don’t make me use the override command!” Quill called out, nearly face-planting when Rocket opened the door without warning.  
“Whaddaya want?” Rocket asked him sullenly, popping the feet of the recliner up to avoid Peter’s gaze.  
“I wanted to make sure that you were okay. You seemed pretty pissed off when you left the bridge,” Peter replied, taking a seat on the edge of Rockets bed; which definitely wasn’t helping him think as all of his blood seemed to rush to his groin, but then he remembered the way Peter had quickly shoved him off of his lap earlier when he had been thrown there by the blast and it killed his arousal immediately. Surely Quill had been disgusted that Rockets furry little ass had touched that part of his anatomy, even through their mutual layers of clothing. Maybe Peter was having second thoughts about Gamora and that was the reason that he was sporting half-wood earlier during their heated getaway with the commissioned relic; there wasn’t any other explanation for it….  
“I’m fine.” Rocket finally said in clipped tones, snatching a half-finished fusion modulator off of his desk and fiddling with it.  
“Rocket, don’t do this.” Peter said, taking the fusion modulator from his talented fingers and placing It back in its original position on his desk.  
“Do what? What are you talkin about Quill?” Rocket asked, leaping up and snatching another shot glass from the desk drawer.  
“It took me over a year to get you to open up to me and treat me like I was a friend and equal. Two hours ago, we were able to just shoot the shit and have……what we had. Please don’t shut me out again, that’s all I’m asking here,” He said, taking a shot glass for himself from the drawer and holding it out for Rocket to fill. The Procyon hesitated for only a moment before he sighed and gave in, pouring Quill a double and watching as he knocked it back smooth, whisky remnants shining on his lips momentarily before his tongue made an appearance, swiping the sweet liquor away with relish.  
“Damn, that’s good grog Rocky.” Peter sighed, patting the space on the bed next to him in silent invitation for Rocket to sit with him.  
“Look, I just need to cool off, Ok? Drax pissed me the fuck off with his mouth and I wasn’t exactly thrilled when our mission went pear-shaped earlier and we had to pull together to beat a retreat. It was fuckin sloppy and we’re better than that and we’re capable of better if Drax would pull his head out of his ass and learn to read our signals.” Rocket shrugged, skirting the issue with his accidental landing on Peter’s literal cock-pit earlier.  
“Well when we hit Taltare 3 in 40 minutes, I was thinking that Gams can drop off the relic and collect and you and I can check out this club I was looking up earlier. We did the last drop and collect, so it’s her and Drax’s turn anyhow. In fact, before we hit the club, we could grab some chow too because I’m starved. What do you say? Think that’ll cool you down enough?” Peter asked, and fuck if he didn’t add in that goddamn smile that made Rocket’s toes curl and his balls turn blue.  
“Yeah, yeah. You buy dinner, I’ll get the bar tab. Sound good?” Rocket asked, trying to ignore the way Peter’s cologne combined with his own natural Terran pheromones were making him dizzy.  
“Nah, I got tonight covered Rocket. Your units are no good here,” Quill said with a wink, rising to his feet and striding to the door and Rocket couldn’t help but watch that ass as it swayed cockily, tauntingly, with Quills movements until he stopped and turned to face him again, struck with a thought.  
“Uh, speaking of tonight Rocky, why don’t you wear that new suit you picked up in Xandar a few weeks ago?” He asked, some emotion that Rocket couldn’t quite place dancing in Quills eyes.  
“Why?” Rocket asked, taken aback by the request. Quill had never gave a fuck about what he wore before now.  
“You’ll see later. Just humor me, okay?” He asked, and his voice sounded a little different too; quieter and…..Nah. Rocket dismissed the turn of his thoughts with a minute shake of his head as Peter exited his quarters, leaving a very flustered raccoonoid in his wake to prepare for another “guy night/intergalactic pub crawl”.  
Well, he would rather be able to spend time with Peter in some capacity than none at all…..


	2. Chapter 2: R&R For R&P

Chapter 2: R&R For R&P

After Peter had returned to the Bridge, Rocket leapt to his feet, shrugging out of his orange and black suit which was covered in sand, soil, and some kind of goop that had splattered it during their battle with the Badoon. He snatched up a pair of underwear and headed to his small bathroom to shower and brush his teeth, the sweet buzz from the two shots of Xandarian Whiskey fading fast as his nerves accelerated at the thought of a night out alone with his favorite person in the universe. He turned on the sonic shower, letting it pulsate and dissolve the grime in his tail fur and massage away some of his pent-up stress. When his fur was restored to its original slightly course fluffiness he stepped out, tossed on the pair of boxer briefs, brushed his teeth, and headed to his closet. The suit in question was hanging in the middle of the rack in a protective sheath of plastic and Rocket stood there in the midst of his clothes pondering why the flarg Peter wanted him to specifically wear it. He recalled the day it was commissioned clearly in his mind; he and Pete were grabbing new gear and getting a few new items to add to their wardrobe while they were restocking the Milano on Xandar. While the Nova Corps dock engineers loaded supplies and dilithium onto their beloved ship, Peter and Rocket took the time to get fitted for new suits and in Peters case; a new Duster. Peter had commissioned it to be made of burgundy leather with black matte leather accents and as the Tailor created the a-frame coat, Rocket inwardly drooled at the thought of how the gorgeous Terran would look strutting around in it.  
“Make a suit for my buddy here in the same material and colors,” Peter said, noticing the way Rocket was eye-balling the half-finished Duster.   
“Nah Pete, not my colors.” Rocket said, his face heating at the thought of having a suit that would make him think of Peter each time he wore it. He was already thinking of Peter much too often for his own good as it was.   
“Come on Rocky, it’ll be cool! Like we’re really a team!” Peter had said it so enthusiastically that Rocket had acquiesced, and the Tailor had delivered the commissioned garments to the Milano before they had departed Xandar to Police the Alpha Quadrant.   
Now Rocket stood in front of his closet in his form-fitting boxer briefs, his tail giving two contemplative swishes across the floor, before he yanked the suit down off the hanger and ripped the plastic off. The heady smell of the leather hit his sensitive nose and he nearly salivated; the smell of leather was always part of Peter Quills unique scent and whenever Rocket got a whiff of that particular material, his mind was instantly drawn towards exactly what he wanted to do to the Terran given the chance.  
Rocket stepped into the suit, enjoying the way the soft leather hugged him as he wiggled his tail through the custom-designed hole and zipped and snapped it closed, catching his reflection in the mirror and shrugging. He didn’t look half-bad, but he also wished he didn’t look the way he did.   
“Peter to Rocket,” His comm watch crackled; the sub-space interference due to the upcoming breach of Taltare 3’s planetary atmosphere.  
“Rocket here,” He replied, running a soft bristled brush through the fur on his head, arms, and thick tail.  
“Meet me at the docking hatch in five, that way I can show them our clearance and we can be on our way from there.” Peter replied.  
“Got it, Rocket out,” He cut the comm and shoved his Unit Chip into one of the many hidden pockets of his new suit; a small blaster and a pair of knives disappearing into other hidden holsters before he made his way out of his quarters and down to the docking bay doors.   
“You sure you got this on your own?” Quill asked Gamora as she carefully placed the relic they had retrieved from the Badoon into the satchel at her side.  
“Don’t try and stall Peter. You know that Drax and I can handle the drop just as well as we have a hundred times before. You need to tell Him; once and for all.” She said firmly, making Peter swallow hard and nod, his own nerves trying to get the better of him.  
“And if I been reading the signals wrong?” He asked her quietly, a look of sheer panic in his eyes.  
“Don’t worry, I doubt that you’ll lose all of your fingers if it comes to that,” Gamora quipped, making Peter roll his eyes and let out a deep sigh.

Rocket was lost in thought as he studied the docking hatch and thought of ways to improve its current hydraulics when he heard Peters footsteps approaching him and fought the urge to let his jaw drop when the Terran came into view; leather Duster fanning out behind him and that signature panty-dropping smirk of his firmly in place.   
“Lets blow this joint Rocky,” He said with a wink, tapping in command codes and locking onto the docking bay clamps as the doors whooshed open to reveal the hustle and bustle that was the docking arena. One of a dozen Nova Corps officers welcomed them, making note of their clearance and wishing them a comfortable stay as the Guardians separated; Peter and Rocket heading towards the Capital City Zoltare Delta and Drax and Gamora heading to the turbo lifts to meet with their Toltarean allies. Zoltare Delta was a hub of thriving diversity; aliens of every species and walk of life was teaming up and down the avenues. Males in business suits, ravager garb, and even robes could be seen making purchases from the stalls that lined the street. Females of varying species could be seen in groups walking by talking and giggling as they hauled their many shopping bags, while others could be seen through the windows of a salon and a manicure shop getting made up for a night on the town. Rocket was enjoying the rare freedom of anonymity as he and Peter made their way down the street; nobody even gave them a second glance or an odd stare. He supposed that they just blended in with the hundreds of other species lining the venues, which was a rare blessing that put Rocket in a good mood.  
“What do you have a taste for Rocky?” Quill asked, noticing Rocket become more at ease with their surroundings and congratulating himself on taking this job out of a handful of others they could’ve chosen.   
“Your pick Pete, You’re the one that said that you were starving. I could go for anything,” He replied as they rounded a corner and came upon a dozen of different bars and eateries. Peter spotted a nice-looking sushi restaurant that didn’t seem as crowded and noisy as the rest and pointed it out, knowing that Rocket had a weakness for Spicy Godzilla Rolls.  
“Damn, that does look good,” Rocket agreed as they headed over to the establishment. Peter opened the door for Rocket and the delicious smell of gyoza sauce and crab Rangoon made both of their stomachs rumble.  
“Good evening gentleman, will it be just the two of you tonight?” The host asked, collecting two menus and a Wine and Spirits list from the counter.  
“Yes, just us. Would you happen to have a quieter table that’s more out of the way?” Peter asked, making Rockets heart skip a beat and his breath catch. Why the hell would Peter need a private table for the two of them?  
“Ah! It just so happens I have just the thing, please follow me.” The host lead them towards the back of the restaurant to a private terrace and a table surrounded by bonsai bushes and a fish tank housing bioluminescent sea life. The terrace was overlooking the beach below and the waves crashing along it, the evening skyline outlining the water in the distance.   
“Your waiter Sabine will be with you shortly; can I get you gentleman something to drink in the meantime?” He asked as they settled in.  
“Couple of Mai Tai’s to start?” Peter asked Rocket, who just nodded in agreement; still pondering this choice of seating arrangement.  
“Coming right up,” The host said, disappearing in the direction of the bar.   
Peter grabbed his menu just to have something to do with his hands, his eyes skimming over the dishes and different sushi rolls they offered, not really comprehending anything in front of him due to his nerves. Rocket took his own menu and browsed needlessly; trying to process what Quill had up his sleeve, his tail giving an agitated twitch as he wondered if this was some kind of joke to Peter. The Waiter came and set their drinks down, asking if they needed more time to order and Peter shook his head, ordering edamame, Crab Rangoon, and Shrimp Shumai for appetizers for them and a Dragon Roll for himself. When the waiter turned towards Rocket, Peter interrupted;  
“Lemme see if I can get this right. Spicy Godzilla Roll, extra spicy mayo on the side, and three pieces of eel roll with cream cheese added. Am I right?” He asked Rocket, who looked at him agape for a moment before clearing his throat and nodding to the waiter as he scribbled it all down and scurried away towards the kitchen.  
“Quill, how the hell did you remember that? We haven’t stopped at a sushi joint in months.” He said, taking a very needed sip of his Mai Tai and trying to shake the nonsense from his head. He had to be reading all of this wrong. Quill probably asked for a more private place to sit so they wouldn’t be recognized and could enjoy a meal in peace. He probably remembered what Rocket ordered because Rocket always ordered the same thing even though Sushi joints are few and far between with Terra being the exception of the rule. Come to think of it, he knew what Peter was going to order for himself too; not just here, but at the club later too. He always knew what Peter liked to eat and drink and wear because….. wait!....But there is no way it could be possible.   
“Are you kidding me? I always know what you like Rocky,” Peter said, a warm smile lighting up his eyes. Rocket swallowed and shook his head, downing the rest of his drink and slamming the glass back down.  
“What’s going on here Pete? You and Gamora have a bet on or something? You wanna see how far you can take this for a good laugh?” Rocket growled, making to turn and leave when Peter grabbed his hand.  
“Rocket wait! Please,” The stricken look on Peter’s face was what halted him in his tracks with far more efficiency than his words alone.  
“I…….. I need to talk to you. Its important that I get this off my chest while I still got the balls to do it.” He said in a rush, actual tears in his eyes. Rocket frowned in disbelief and re-took his seat as the waiter came with their appetizers and another round of Mai Tai’s, clearing away the empty glasses and leaving them alone once more.  
“What is it Pete?” Rocket asked in a smaller voice than he was used to using. It was Peter’s turn to reach for liquid courage as he reached for his glass, but Rocket halted him; throwing caution to the wind as he took the Terrans hand into his own.  
“Come on, this is me we’re talkin about here. You can talk to me about anything, you don’t need that stuff to do it,” He said, gathering the courage to look Peter in the eyes, trying to give him some reassurance. He was expecting Peter to pull away, to take his hand back, even to go so far as to cringe at Rockets touch; the last thing he expected was for Peter to scoot forward and continue to hold his hand in his own. Rockets heart was racing double, and he was having a hard time fighting the urge to faint and cry and run all at once.   
“Rocket, I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while now, months actually. You know that Gamora and I aren’t….. that we’re not together and never really were. When we first started spending more time together, I never realized how….. I never realized that my feelings about us being friends would change,” Peter said, swallowing thickly. Rockets eyes widened and he regarded Peter with disbelief; surely he wasn’t saying what he thought he was….  
“Change how?” Rocket asked, giving Peter’s hand an encouraging squeeze.  
“Rocket, I don’t know if I’ve been getting all of your signals right or not, but I hope that I have because I really want to be with you.” Peter confessed, and Rocket let go of the breath that he’d been holding.  
“You wanna be with me? Why?” Rocket blurted, the confusion in his voice and on his face plain.  
“Because I love you you furry asshole, that’s why,” Peter laughed, breaking the tension and taking a napkin from beside them to wipe his eyes. Rocket fell back into his seat, words failing him completely as he tried to process what the man across from him had just said.  
“What about you Rocky? How do you feel about me?” he asked, voice thick with emotion and perhaps a little hope.  
“Pete….. is this a joke? I mean, you can’t seriously feel that way about me!” Rocket exclaimed, the thought that Peter Quill, savior of the Galaxy, no stranger to gorgeous females wanted Rocket in any form of intimate capacity was Ludacris to the raccoonoid.  
“Why not?” Quill asked, wondering if Rocket really didn’t want him after all.  
“Because I’m….. well fuckin look at me!” He said, gesturing at himself; ears flattened to his head miserably.  
“Rocket, we’ve been working together side by side for nearly three years. I think I’ve seen you before a couple times,” Peter said, exasperated.  
“Okay, fine. You’ve seen me like this but you haven’t---well, seen me---” Words failed Rocket and he floundered, speech no longer his strong point for the first time in his life.  
“Naked?” Peter offered quietly, causing Rocket to down his entire Mai Tai in one go.   
“Listen Pete, maybe you’re still hurting over the shit with Yondu and Ego, or maybe your still confused about Gamora…  
“I’m not confused Rocket! What the hell? Why can’t you just accept—  
“Because it’s too good to be true, that’s why!” Rocket finally growled; raw emotion finally present in his own eyes as Pete regarded him with shock.  
“Rocket, I wouldn’t lie to you. Not about something like this,” Peter said, reaching for Rocket’s hand and lacing his fingers with Rocket’s own.   
“But you could literally have anyone Pete! I mean I’ve seen the kinda chicks that you’ve been with and I don’t fall into any category even remotely near---  
“Rocket, I don’t want anyone else. I want you, and unless I got my wires completely crossed somewhere during this passed year, I think that you want me too.” He said, cupping Rocket’s cheek. Rocket swallowed, overcome with emotion, lowering his eyes to study their intertwined hands on the table. Peter rose from his seat then, coming around to sit on the empty chair on Rockets other side, needing to show Rocket that he was serious; that Rocket was safe with him.   
Peter reached out slowly, leaning closer to him, the smell of leather and cologne mixed with the Terrans natural pheromones overtook Rockets senses as Peter slowly brushed his lips over Rockets own. Rocket reached out tentatively, tracing up the hollow at Peter’s throat to his jaw as the kiss intensified and Peter’s tongue brushed against his own, feeling Rockets surprised inhale through his nose. One of Peter’s hands found its way to the back of Rocket’s head, fingers splaying into the fur he found there; coarse at the outer layer, yet silky and soft beneath. Much like Rocket was himself. They mutually broke the kiss when Peter’s stomach growled, making Rocket chortle at this strange and crazy Humie who made his head spin and his damn hormones get the better of him.  
“We should probably finish dinner,” Rocket murmured, breaking away reluctantly.  
“You mean start it?” Peter replied, making Rockets face heat as Rocket could now smell Peter’s cologne on his fur.  
“Yeah, what you said.” He replied, digging into the shrimp shumai and gyoza sauce.  
“So, is it official then?” Peter asked, that signature sexy smirk crossing his face.  
“What?” Rocket asked, happy to see the rest of their dinner and more drinks arrive.  
“Us. Like, I can say that you’re my Boyfriend now in other words,” Peter clarified, making Rocket nearly swallow a piece of his Godzilla roll whole.  
“You’re really determined about this, aren’t you?” Rocket asked, crossing his arms and quirking his brow.  
“Oh I can be pretty persuasive when I want something Rocky,” Peter replied, one of his boots softly tracing up Rockets leg. Rockets eyes glittered mischievously as he nudged the Terrans foot away and popped a crab Rangoon into his mouth, sitting up straighter in his seat in an effort to steel himself against Peter’s advances.  
“Persuade me then,” He replied, seeing Peter’s face light up with the challenge.  
“You don’t know what you’re in for Ranger Rick,” Peter said with a smirk, causing Rockets stomach to flutter at the promise in his voice.   
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” He intimated, his tail flicking in anticipation for the rest of the evening to come.

An hour later, they were back on the streets of Zoltare Delta, slightly buzzed from the number of Mai Tai’s they had consumed and heady from the presence of the other. Peter had taken Rockets hand as they strode down the street together, a cacophony of music and lights leading them to The Archipelagos; the club that Peter had looked up. There was a line outside to get, but before they had even made their way to the back of it, they had been recognized by the bouncer and ushered quickly inside.  
“Well at least this face is good for something,” Rocket said congenially as they were led to a VIP booth near the bar. Peter rolled his eyes and shook his head at Rockets words, ordering two Black Holes and two shots of Xandarian Whiskey for them both and requesting a room for the night before they were all booked up. Rocket inwardly balked at the thought of Peter reserving a room and it must’ve shown on his face because Peter chuckled and bent his head to Rockets ear so he could hear him over the music.  
“Listen, I’m pretty sure that both of us are gonna be sloshed before the nights over. I don’t feel like crawling on my face back to the Milano at three in the morning hoping that I climb aboard the right ship, do you?” He asked, making a good point.   
“Takes a fuck of a lot to get me that bushed Pete, but I appreciate your concern,” He replied, taking his drinks from the waitress and tossing the shot back first. Peter followed suit, tossing his own shot back and slipping the shot glass in his pocket at the exact moment that Rocket was doing the same. Their eyes met and they each broke out into laughter, clinking their cocktail glasses together in salute to their year plus long intergalactic pub crawl.   
“You know, there was a time when we first met that you were the one trying to get me in the sack.” Quill laughed, recalling the day that Groot and Rocket had tried to capture him to sell him to Yondu. Rocket snorted, nearly choking on his drink at the implied irony.  
“Well, at the time, your ass was worth 40,000 units, so you can’t really blame me. I was in it for the money.” Rocket guffawed, waving the waitress over and ordering another round.   
“Wonder what I’d be worth on the open market now,” Peter said, winking and downing the shot the waitress set down for him.  
“Now? I don’t know, you’ve definitely depreciated in value.” Rocket replied with a shrug, downing his shot and motioning for the waitress to just leave the damn bottle.   
“What? Depreciated in value? How do you figure?” Peter asked as Rocket refilled his new shot glass, the waitress not even noticing that the original two were missing.  
“Well for example, you’ve definitely taken a few bumps and bruises since then. The battle with Ronan, the battle with Ego, all the others since then. If you were a ship, I’d scrap you.” Rocket joked, making Peters shoulders shake with laughter at the thought.  
“Then why do you keep upgrading the Milano? She’s seen a lot of battles too” Peter asked him knowingly.  
“Not my place to scrap her, she’s your ship Pete.” He replied as Peter sank closer to him in the cushioned booth.  
“Are you kidding me? You’re always harping on about The Milano being yours by now because of all the work you put into her.” Peter scoffed, tossing back a third shot and savoring the sweet trail it burned down his throat.  
“You’re always complaining about how old her parts are and how you keep having to replace things to keep her running smooth, but I think that you like my old busted up ship.” Peter continued, catching Rockets gaze and holding it as Rocket downed his forth shot, their third Black Hole glasses empty and forgotten on the table in front of them.   
“Maybe she’s grown on me,” Rocket replied, the scent of warm leather and cologne and Peter surrounding him in the small enclosed space of their VIP Booth.   
“Like I knew she would…….. like I knew I would.” Peter said, leaning forward to reach passed Rocket and press the button on the side of the booth that would shield them from view to the rest of the club and pressed a second that silenced the sound of the loud techno playing out on the dancefloor.  
“Pete…  
“Dance with me Rocky.” He asked, leaning forward to press his forehead to Rockets, switching on the Zune that perpetually occupied his pocket now and letting Iris by the Goo-Goo Dolls fill the space around them. The couple swayed like that for a moment, foreheads touching, eyes closed as they let the music and the lyrics wash over them. It was Rocket who inched forward to capture Peter’s lips once more with his own, easily falling into a rhythm of tongue and teeth and tangling his fingers into Peters hair. Peter pulled Rocket onto his lap and they both groaned when their erections ground against each other, his hands roaming over Rockets back and brushing along his cybernetic implants in the heat of the moment. Rocket bolted backwards from Peters lap with a half-animalistic cry, landing hard on the table and skittering off its surface towards the door of their booth.  
“Rocket, wait! Rocket, what’s wrong?” Peter asked, grabbing at Rockets waist to stop him and missing him by several inches. There was a very loud crash as their Black Hole cocktail glasses hit the floor seconds before Rocket slid off the tabletop to land painfully on his side in the middle of the shards, his head hitting the corner of the seat on the way down; knocking him out cold. Peter scrambled around the table, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of an unconscious Rocket; his head bleeding where he had grazed the edge of the metal booth.  
“Rocket? Rocket, come on, open your eyes,” Peter crunched over the glass and carefully felt for a pulse at Rockets neck with a shaking hand, relieved when he felt one beating rapidly underneath his fingertips. He lifted the unconscious raccoonoid into his arms cautiously, wincing as he saw that glass was littering his fur in places and wondered how deeply it may be stuck. He snatched the key chip to their room up and kicked the buttons near the door to reset the booth and open its door, house music assaulting his senses after they had had it so quiet moments before. Peter made his way through the crowd, keeping Rocket pressed close to his chest and moving quickly towards the turbolifts at the back of the bar, scanning the key chip to allow them entrance. The turbolift sprang open and Peter ran inside, punching the button for the penthouse and feeling relieved when they shot up to the tenth floor in less than a minute. He stepped out and raced down the hall, scanning the chip and kicking the door aside, laying Rocket down gently on the king size bed and scrambling back into the hallway, ripping the large first aid kit from the wall and returning to his side. Peter took out the dermal regenerator and began to treat Rockets head wound first, carefully running the instrument back and forth over the area until the gash closed; leaving a small pink line where the more serious injury had been minutes before. He then took tweezers and carefully removed the shards of glass from his fur, only seeing a handful that had slightly penetrated the skin below and easily restoring the cuts from them. Peter went to their bathroom and ran warm water, filling a glass with it and grabbing a washcloth he set them down on the nightstand and removed his Duster; tossing it onto the opposite side of the bed and dragging a chair over to Rockets side.   
“Rocky? Can you hear me?” He asked softly, running the warm wet cloth over Rockets face to remove the blood from his fur. Peter rinsed the cloth and kept cleansing Rockets fur gently until all of the blood was removed and gently dabbed the clean fur dry. Rocket had not stirred at all during this process, which made Peter nervous as he ordered a cup of coffee from the replicator in their suite to sober up a bit more; he was no good to him half-drunk. When Rocket remained unconscious for another hour, but his pulse remained steady and strong (Peter was checking every three minutes or less) he pondered over what to do about making Rocket more comfortable and knew that the leather suit that he had requested that he wear had to be one of the most uncomfortable things to sleep in. Deep down Peter also knew that him being a brainless asshole earlier and thinking only with his dick when he touched Rockets back and accidentally brushed along his implants was what had created this situation in the first place. He carded his fingers through his hair and began to explore the room, looking through the closets and drawers until he found a few clean robes in different sizes and yanked a small one out, hesitantly approaching the bed again and swallowing hard, praying to any deity listening that Rocket would forgive him for what he was about to do. He knew that as he slowly unzipped and unsnapped the burgundy and black leather suit, he was crossing a line that he may not be forgiven for. Peter was trying not to stare as Rockets well built muscular chest and abs came into view, the coarse fur doing very little to hide the fact that the raccoonoid had one hell of a kick-ass body; no doubt from hauling guns and heavy equipment that was sometimes twice the size of his 4’5” body. Peter swallowed thickly as the implants on Rockets chest shown in the dim light of the lamp and he wondered, not for the first time, how much he had suffered at the hands of those bastard scientists. He gently lifted Rockets upper body, careful to support his head and neck against the crook of one arm while pulling the suit down and off with his free hand, tossing it on top of his matching Duster and wrapping the soft robe around him instead. Peter pulled the soft down quilt at the foot of the bed over Rocket and hung his suit along with the Duster in the closet, coming back to lay next to Rocket on top of the covers. He stayed awake for another hour and a half, but the toll of their evening and the stress of the accident had taken the best of Peter and he nodded off beside Rocket, one hand resting on Rockets chest in an unconscious effort to try to make sure he didn’t stop breathing during the night.

A short time later, Rocket began twitching slightly in his sleep; his head turning away from Peter and his body following suit until he was crunched into a fetal position, the images in his head beginning to take him back to the laboratory and back to the experiments. His head was pounding, and he was shaking as he saw the first faceless figure in a white coat stand over him, the sharp scalpel inching closer and closer; making Rocket plead for them not to hurt him again.

Peter jolted awake when a shriek ripped from Rockets throat and he thrashed blindly, scratching Peters arm as he began to nearly hyperventilate in the throes of his nightmare.  
“Please…….please don’t hurt me……don’t cut me again. Please, I’ll do what you want….”  
“Rocket? Rocket, it’s okay. Rocket, wake up!” Quill exclaimed, shaking his shoulder in an effort to rouse him to no avail. Rocket sobbed and tried to skitter away, but Peter grabbed him and pulled him to his chest, holding onto him and pressing Rockets face into the hollow of his throat, hoping that he would be able to smell Peters scent and come back from whatever hell sleep had taken him to. Rocket struggled and sobbed, gasping for breath begging once more for whoever he was dreaming of to stop.  
“Rocket, your safe I promise. I’m right here with you and I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Please come back to me Rocky,” Peter said soothingly into his ear, feeling Rocket tremble and cry out as his eyes snapped open; the pupils dilated with fear before focusing on Quill and quickly turning to guarded shame.   
“Rocket take it easy. Its okay, we’re in the room alone. You hit your head downstairs and I brought you up here and got you cleaned up—  
“Where are my clothes Quill?” Rocket asked in a strange tone; half angry, half sad.  
“I just put your suit in the closet, I thought that the robe would be more comfortable. Rocket, you had me so worried, I thought—  
“Did you see?” He interrupted, head hung low, ears flattened. He couldn’t look Peter in the eye.  
“What?” Peter asked, confused as he reached out for Rockets hand only to have Rocket scoot further away and wrap his tail around himself, pulling the robe even tighter around his body.  
“Did you see me? All the metal and—  
“No, I was more concerned with your head injury and getting the glass out of your arm where you fell earlier. But Rocket, I have seen the implants on your back before. Remember? You and I getting processed at the Kiln?” Peter reminded him, seeing the look of sheer horrific realization cross his face. He had apparently either forgotten or never realized it in the first place.   
“Rocket, I---  
“Save it Pete. I don’t need any pity,” Rocket replied, stiffly moving away in an attempt to get out of bed.  
“Will you shut up and listen for once?” Peter asked, pulling Rocket back onto the pile of pillows behind him. Rocket opened his mouth as though he was going to protest, so Peter leaned in and kissed him passionately, tracing his tongue along Rockets sharp teeth and drawing a sharp intake of breath from him. Peter poured all of the love and passion he had been holding in for the past year into the kiss, causing Rocket to cling to him before twining his fingers through his hair and pulling him down closer to him. Peter broke the kiss and took Rockets hand, sliding it up and down his straining erection and looking into his lovers eyes.  
“Does this feel like pity to you?” He panted, seeing his Boyfriends eyes widen before his lips crashed back onto Rockets, drawing a guttural half-moan, half-growl from his throat as he took the robe and slid it from Rockets shoulders. Rocket returned the kiss hungrily, hands raking over Peters shirt and grazing one of the Terrans sensitive nipples, making him hiss and break the kiss to pull off his shirt and toss it to the floor below. Peter rejoined his lips to Rockets then, running his hands up and down his side, then to his hip, then firmly squeezing Rockets ass as the kiss electrified them both. Rocket reached out to grope Peter through his uncomfortably tight jeans and earned a deep moan from him as he explored his shaft with his deft fingers, using the same talent he used during repairs and designing new artillery to learn this new territory and exactly what touches brought Peter the most pleasure. Peter moved up to nip one of Rockets ears and gently tug his tail, creating pleasurable tingles to reverberate up and down his spine and neck and finally settle in his groin , making him harder than he had ever been in his life.  
“Fuck Pete,” Rocket breathed, shuddering with pleasure when Peter gave him a few strokes through his boxer briefs.  
“I hope that’s not all you think this is,” Peter murmured, nipping Rockets ear again before returning to his lips. Rocket broke the kiss and stared up at the gorgeous Terran above him.  
“What do you mean?” He asked, barely able to concentrate when Peters hand moved downwards to cup and massage his balls.  
“I want you to be with me Rocky. Not just here, not just tonight. I want you to be a part of my life always. Rocket, I love you…” Peter confessed, bringing his lips to the exposed metal of the implants at his collar bone and kissing the scarred skin there. Rocket trembled with a mixture of need and emotion as Peter carefully kissed his imperfections and ran his hands around Rockets side, stopping before he touched Rockets back.  
“Did I hurt you when I touched these earlier?” Peter asked thickly, concern in his warm blue eyes. Rocket swallowed hard and shook his head, holding his breath as Peter gently placed a hand onto his back; the warm metal and screws and tiny bolts interspersed with Rockets own natural fur was foreign to the touch, but not unpleasantly so. Rocket sat very still and slowly let go of the breath he had been holding; waiting for Peter to jerk away in disgust, to laugh, to throw him out of their room. To Rockets sheer and utter surprise, Peter leaned back in to kiss his lips, his cheeks, the contours of his jaw and the sensitive spot behind his ear.  
“Pete I want you…..please,” Rocket gasped, barely recognizing his own voice as he tugged on the button of Peters jeans.  
“God I want you too,” Peter said softly, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans and wiggling out of them and his own boxer briefs at the same time. Rockets eyes widened at the mouthwatering sight of Peter Quill; naked and fully erect laying beside him, reaching for the elastic waistband of his own underwear and nearly collapsed when Peter tugged the final piece of his clothing off and took in the sight of Rockets fully unclothed body for the first time. Peter admired Rockets muscular build and proud erection; the turgid flesh was a thick seven inches and resembled an ordinary human save for the dusky grey coloring that set it apart. Peter moved forward, taking Rocket slowly into his mouth, savoring every inch of him as he swirled his tongue around the head and shaft, making Rocket see stars the sensations were so powerful. Rocket reached out to wrap his hand tightly around Peters cock and begin stroking him, the feel of Rockets soft fur and the velvety ebony skin of his hands had Peter trembling and gasping, suckling even firmer at his thick shaft.   
“Peter…..please…… Please fuck me,” Rocket panted wantonly, all of his guarded walls crumbling to the ground as a raw need and a desperate love overtook him.  
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Peter said, stroking Rocket lovingly and planting small nips at his jaw and ears.  
“I trust you. Please Peter……I need you now.” Rocket replied, groaning in frustration when Peter let go of him to rummage briefly in the nightstand drawer, producing a bottle of lubricant. Rocket lay back as his lover kissed him once more, nudging his legs apart and driving him mad with continued nips and mouthing. Peter poured a generous amount of the silky fluid onto his fingers and massaged the tight ring of Rockets opening while he licked and suckled his shaft again, trying to distract him from the initial discomfort he knew that Rocket was bound to feel. Peter slid his index finger in slowly, feeling Rocket’s body tense at the unfamiliar intrusion.  
“I need you to relax, Okay Rocky? I know it feels weird right now, but it’s gonna pass. I promise,” He breathed, feeling Rocket relax his spine and take a deep, shuddering breath as he continued slowly to pleasure him with his mouth while pumping his slickened finger in and out. Peter felt the ring of muscle relax and Rocket whimpered in pleasure and gasped his name, the sound of Rocket in the throes of passion making his cock jump with want. Peter took his entire length into his mouth and partially into his throat when he added the second finger and Rocket cried out, writhing in pleasure-pain on the mattress before him. Peter heard his lovers sharp nails tear the sheets as he fisted them in his hands and he felt himself grow impossibly hard in anticipation. When he had Rocket acclimated to his two fingers, he crooked them in a come-hither motion and was rewarded with the most lustful moan he heard yet rumbling deep within Rockets chest as he stimulated his prostate gland.  
“FUCK!!!!” Rocket panted, reaching for Quill desperately, wanting to feel Peter everywhere and anywhere,  
“You ready for me Rocky?” Quill asked huskily, kneeling between Rockets legs and adding another palmful of lube to his cock, making Rocket want to salivate at the sight.  
“Peter now!” He growled, his patience fled as his more animalistic base instincts took over. Peter grabbed Rockets legs and hauled them over his shoulders, the satin and silk texture of his lovers tail rubbing against his balls as he thrust inside of him combined with the tight wet heat of Rockets virgin hole was nearly his undoing. Rocket shuddered anew as the feeling of Peter filling him claimed his senses and he gasped out, rocking his hips slightly and hissing in pleasure at the sensation of Peter sinking even deeper inside of him.  
“God you feel so good Rocket,” Peter murmured, rocking forward and feeling his boyfriend stretch to fit all of him inside, making both of them cry out and hold the other closer.  
“Peter…. If you don’t fuck me like you mean it, I might be forced to bite you.” Rocket panted impatiently, knowing that Quill was holding back, afraid of hurting him and pushing him away. Peter snorted with laughter and kissed him, drawing himself halfway out before slamming back in, their balls ramming against each other as Peter whispered,  
“Only you could make me laugh at a moment like this, you dick. And who says I don’t want you to bite in the first place?”   
A strange and unreadable emotion found its way into Rockets eyes and when Peter slammed forward again, Rocket sank his teeth into Peters shoulder, a feral growl ripping through Rockets chest and out of his throat. The animalistic sound spurring Peter on as he nailed Rockets ass to the mattress, the pleasure-pain from the bite making him see white and only encouraging him to fuck Rocket harder and harder; giving as good as he got. The bed slid back and forth with each new thrust and the lamp flew off of the nightstand, pitching them into darkness momentarily until a golden light began emanating from Peter, enshrouding both of them in a blinding aura of brilliance. Peter thrust as deep as he could and bent forward, teeth connecting with Rockets shoulder in the same place that his lovers teeth were still sank into him. With a final desperate slam forward, Peter and Rocket exploded, Cumming harder than either of them ever had before. Peter gathered Rocket into his arms and spooned protectively behind him, both of them too exhausted and sated for words as sleep finally claimed them with the dawn.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Preparing For Take-Off

Peter awoke to the suite bathed in warm sunlight and a very warm body beside him. He stretched languidly, the sweet ache in the muscles of his legs and hips a reminder of the amazing night he and Rocket had shared. Peter smiled as he looked at his lover in his arms curled into the warmth of his chest, his face relaxed and carefree for a change in his thankfully dreamless sleep. He studied the intricate markings and swirls in Rockets fur, a kaleidoscope of color in the early afternoon sunlight.

He brushed his knuckles across his Boyfriend’s cheekbone gently, watching as Rockets warm golden-brown eyes blinked open slowly before focusing on him intently; a look of guarded trepidation taking the place of the relaxed and comfortable face he wore a moment before. Peter smiled down at him reassuringly and brushed his lips across Rockets own in an attempt to put him at ease.

“Your fur is so beautiful in the sunlight. I’ve wanted to tell you that since we landed on Contraxia at dawn eight months ago for that Sakaaran Job,” Peter said softly, pulling him as close as possible into his warm embrace.

“Jesus Pete, the shit you say…” Rocket felt his face heat up at the compliment.

“What? It’s true,” Peter replied sleepily as he kissed Rockets jaw and nuzzled his nose into the fur at the base of his throat, seeking out his unique scent.

“You better get your eyes checked next time we’re on Xandar.” Rocket groused, not taking the compliment well, but nuzzling Peter’s chest in return, nonetheless.

“There’s nothing wrong with my eyesight Rocky,” Peter replied, working his way up Rockets jaw to nip his ear while giving his plush tail a stroke. Rockets heartbeat accelerated, but he held back; there was a huge part of him that still wondered if Peter was really serious. Peter frowned as he felt doubt and fear flash across his mind and then a profound sadness before his eyes widened as he searched Rockets own. _He was feeling Rockets emotions._

“Please don’t be sad,” He blurted, making Rockets eyes widen as though Peter had sprouted a second head.

“How the hell…..how do you know that I was thinking…”

“That I’ve been lying to you or that I’ve lost my damn mind? I can’t explain it, but I can feel your thoughts and emotions as easily as I can feel and think my own.” Peter replied, strangely still calm about this new ability.

“How the flarg is that possible?!” Rocket exclaimed, nearly bolting from the Half-Terrans arms in shock, but Peter held him close.

“I….. I think I kind of….know what happened,” Peter said slowly, some internal instinct giving him the answers they were seeking.

“Are you going to share?” Rocket asked impatiently, a hint of panic in his voice as he took in Peter’s calm demeanor. Peter frowned in thought, his memories of the previous night coming back to him slowly.

“There was a bright light, wasn’t there?” He asked with a thoughtful frown.

“When we knocked the lamp over?” Rocket asked, face heating at the memory of them losing control.

“No, after that.” Peter replied, feeling the surge of shyness that Rocket had just felt a moment before.

“Yeah…. I thought the bulb exploded when the lamp fell over or something, I was a little, uh….caught up in the moment and I wasn’t paying attention.” Rocket confessed, the inside of his ears reddening.

“That wasn’t the lamp Rocky; that was me.” He said quietly, unsure of how to tell Rocket what he already knew instinctually to be true.

“You? What-

“I have to talk to Nova Prime Rael,” Peter said, running his fingers through the fur on Rockets side.

“Why? What the flarg does she have to do with this?” Rocket asked, his tail swishing irritably.

“To do with this? Nothing; but she’s the only person who knows more about my Celestial DNA than I do,” Peter replied pensively.

“Your Celestial DNA? Pete, what the hell is going on? What aren’t you telling me?” Rocket shot up urgently and Peter reached out to take his hand in an attempt to calm him.

“I don’t know anything for sure, I only know what my instincts are telling me about this, and I don’t want you to freak out……. Yet.” He said hesitantly, knowing that it was only a matter of time.

“I’m already having a coronary over here! Spit it out!” He shouted, fur bristling on end as he regarded Peters calm demeanor.

“Stop shouting, sit back down, and take a deep breath. Neither one of us are dying.” Peter said, waiting until his Boyfriend complied reluctantly. Then he took a deep breath to steel his nerves.

“Last night, I may have kind of, accidently on purpose, created a link between us,” Peter stammered quickly, avoiding Rockets eyes and trying to brace himself for his reaction.

“A link? What kind of a link? Pete, what in the hell are you talking about?” Rocket asked in confusion.

“I don’t know what kind of a link. I just know that when it happened I was thinking….” Peter swallowed and looked away, his emotions getting the better of him once more. Rockets eyes bore into him intensely, willing him to continue; but Peter put his head in his hands, trying to put his emotions into words.

“I was thinking that I was afraid that you were going to run for it after this and I would lose you for good; that you’d disappear in some distant corner of the universe and tell me to go fuck myself, and I couldn’t live with that Rocket. Not after everything I’ve been through in my life; now that I have you, I can’t lose you too.” Peter said truthfully, his usual bravado and optimism crumbling as he shared a bit of his own vulnerabilities.

Rocket stared at Peter agape for a moment as he let Peter’s words sink in, his eyes searching Peter’s face intently; but there was no lie in Peters gaze.

“Pete……you really are serious,” Rocket breathed, reaching up to brush away a tear as it rolled down the Half-Terrans cheek. Peter’s face fell, his eyes awash in misery as his fears overtook his emotions and he swallowed thickly, unable to meet Rockets eyes. Rocket shifted in the bed that they shared, kneeling before Peter, he touched his forehead to his lovers’ and caressed his cheek softly; it was his turn to reassure Peter.

Rocket chuckled softly as he forced Peter to look at him, wanting Peter to see the truth in his eyes. “What’s so funny Rocky?” He whispered, unable to see the humor in this situation.

“Pete, all of this time, I was the one thinking that I didn’t have a shot in hell with you; and here you are, worrying that I’m the one that’s gonna bolt. How in the hell is this possible? I’ve gotta be dreaming,” Rocket said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Are you saying you’re staying then?” Peter asked in hushed tones, as though afraid that his words alone might make him disappear.

“Are you saying that you want me to?” Rocket countered, a hopeful grin daring to make its way across his face.

“Jesus fuck Rocky, yes I want you to stay. Rocket, I love you. I never want to be anywhere that you’re not,” He replied, his face lighting up as he gathered Rocket closer.

“Well then Jesus Fuck Pete, I guess I ain’t going anywhere.” Rocket said; and for the first time in a while, a genuine, radiant smile crossed his face as Peter captured his lips with his own once again, carding his fingers desperately through now familiar coarse-fluffy fur. He cupped Rockets face in both hands as the kiss intensified, smoothing the pads of his thumbs over Rockets velveteen ears. He was bursting with want all over again; the fire that was barely sated last night engulfing him anew. Rocket reached between them to grasp the back of Peters head, deepening the kiss and raking his nails through his sandy brown hair causing a shiver to run down the half-terrans spine. Peter groaned into their kiss, his tongue delving desperately as he guided Rocket back down with him onto the bed causing Rocket to break the kiss in shock and arousal when he fisted a handful of hardening grey-purple cock.

“Want you Rocky,” Peter sighed huskily, rolling Rocket beneath him once more and planting needful and greedy kisses down his plush, silky throat.

“Mmmmnnn, ohhh, Pete,” Rocket panted, his vision flashing white when he felt Peters mouth on the head of his dick again, his head rising and falling, tongue swirling; taking Rocket to new heights once more. Rocket fisted the sheets below them once again when Peter began kneading his balls in time with the motion of his bobbing head, smiling around the swollen organ in his mouth when Rocket cried out in a half whine of ecstasy and pleasure, begging his lover for more.

“Pete, fuck…..Oh Peter……yesssss.” He breathed; trying and failing to keep his hips still while his boyfriend ravaged him. Peter’s own cock had grown impossibly hard at the sensual sounds of pleasure and want that Rocket was making in earnest now, half lost in the sensations Peter was giving him. He reached once again for the bottle of lube on the nightstand, pushing a finger into Rocket and being rewarded with a half growl, half shriek as the muscles of Rockets tight sheath grasped at the digit hungrily.

“Tell me what you want,” Peter rasped, delivering several nips and licks to Rockets ear and neck and grinding his weeping cock into Rockets fur. Rocket arched his back from the bed below them when Peter delivered a succession of tight-fisted strokes to his turgid flesh in an attempt to bring Rockets focus back from the euphoria he had floated away to.

“Need…..you. Pete,” Rocket begged, spreading his legs and moving his tail aside as Peter added a second finger, scissoring the two digits inside of him and making several passes over his prostate gland until Rocket’s eyes glazed over and he shuddered with fresh ecstasy. Peter mounted him then, ramming balls deep again as he lost control for the second time, riding Rocket desperately and deeply, unable to get enough of him.

“Oh Pete…….. Peter, I l-l-love you,” he sobbed, nails digging into the tanned muscles of his lovers biceps as he held on seemingly for dear life. Peter sucked his bottom lip into his teeth and bit down, the tight, wet heat of Rocket overcoming him once more and when his eyes shot open, the celestial light burst forth again; enveloping them both in tangible warmth.

“Rocket…… oh Rocky, I love you too.” He gasped roughly, some instinct driving him to pull his lover closer and claim his lips once again as they mutually came hard; Peters hips shuddering forward to drive his cock as far as it would go while gushes of his seed filled Rockets core. The evidence of Rockets own pleasure painted Peters chest in thick glistening ropes of opaque fluid, and the light streaming from Peters body to wrap around them hung in the air; creating a glittering sphere that was dispersing slowly now as they lay in post-coital exhaustion, a tangle of limbs and tail and skin and fur.

“The light…..again,” Rocket huffed out, feeling Peter nod his head from somewhere between his shoulder and chest in acknowledgement.

“We should figure out what it means,” Rocket said softly, stroking Peters dampened bangs from his forehead absently. Peter swallowed thickly as he looked up and their eyes met and he steeled himself for Rockets rejection, for his anger, for the negative reaction this was bound to arouse.

“It means you’re mine now, and I’m yours too. We belong to each other, and the connection is only gonna get deeper and stronger with time,” Peter replied, his eyes reflecting a swirling galaxy, just as they had when Ego had been attempting to tap into his celestial abilities when they had fought over a year and a half ago. Rocket felt a stirring deep inside his chest and he reached forward, his own bright blue light bursting forth to connect with the golden rays of Peters as their hands and foreheads touched and he became aware suddenly of Peters fear and doubt, of his lonely anguish he had suffered and buried deeply since the death of his Mother; but shining ever brightly to eclipse it all was the all-consuming love he felt for Rocket as his lover, his mate, his friend, his companion, his equal. Rocket gasped out a sob as he felt the power and depth and size of that love; which only mirrored his own that he felt for Peter.

“I told you I loved you,” Peter whispered into his ear, pulling Rocket closer to nuzzle into his neck and shoulder. Rocket gulped back the emotional lump in his throat, never having experienced all of these feelings and emotions so deeply and profoundly.

“Peter, I..”

“I know. I can feel it,” He replied, knowing that Rocket was struggling to form the words to express himself.

“Well…..at least you bought me dinner first,” Rocket teased, attempting to break the intensity of the moment with his personal brand of sarcastic humor.

“And drinks….” Peter added, a laugh rumbling in his chest as he gazed at his lover fondly.

“So…..this is kinda official now. What are we gonna tell Drax and Gamora?” Rocket asked, unable to keep an anxious swish of his tail at bay.

“Gamora already knows how I feel about you,” Peter confessed, eliciting a groan from Rocket.

“Really? You told your Ex how you were feeling about the creepy nerdy engineer on your ship?!” He exclaimed, exasperated.

“She’s not my Ex! Rocket, I told you, Gams and I are only- and were only ever- friends. Oh, and you’re not creepy,” Peter added, rolling his eyes.

“So you do think I’m nerdy then?” Rocket persisted, earning a groan of his own from Peter as the half-terran climbed out of their love nest towards the bathroom.

“Are you coming with me for a shower?” He asked, the sight of his naked body effectively interrupting Rockets train of thought for a moment.

“Nice ass Quill, but that still don’t answer my question.” He dead-panned, making Peter nearly trip himself up in the plush bathroom rug.

“You’re impossible sometimes, you know that?” Peter asked with a shake of his head as Rocket climbed out of bed to join him.

“But you love that about me?” He asked knowingly.

“Just get over here and clean up so I can take you to breakfa---well, lunch.” He replied, spying the late hour on the chronometer over his lovers shoulder and blushing.

“Lunch is overrated, I’m still ordering pancakes,” Rocket stated as he stepped under the warm spray with Peter.

“You and your damned sweet-tooth Rocky,” Peter muttered, pouring shampoo onto Rockets fur and massaging gently; the sensation of this kind of touch foreign to him, but enjoyable, nonetheless.

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Peter poured Rocket a steaming cup of coffee before filling his own mug and giving the menu a once over in the posh diner they had found around the corner from the The Archipelagos after checking out of their room. Rocket had followed the smell of strong fresh brewed coffee and the sugary sweetness of pancakes and waffles down the street as soon as his feet touched the sidewalk, dragging Peter along behind him.

“I’m freaking starved Pete; which happens to be your fault by the way Baby Boo,” Rocket told him, making Peter smirk at the new pet name that he let slip.

“How is that my fault again?” Peter asked innocently, quirking a brow and daring him with his eyes to elaborate.

“Want me to show you?” Rocket offered congenially; sliding his foot up Peters leg beneath the table in the same way that Peter had the previous day at the Sushi restaurant. Peter smirked, his eyes twinkling at the thought of bending Rocket over their table and having his way with him; perhaps even drizzling the sticky-sweet syrup that Rocket was so fond of over his thick cock and having his boyfriend lap it up with his textured tongue.

“I definitely do Rocky, but not here. The thought is tempting though,” Peter admitted huskily, the tone of his voice setting Rockets thoughts aflame as he recalled everything that Peter had done to him and the sensations that Peter was capable of making him feel….

“Later then,” Rocket shrugged nonchalantly, but there was a glint of promise in his eyes that Peter couldn’t wait to explore further once they were back aboard the Milano.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he replied as the waitress came to take their order.

“Let’s see…. BLT extra mayo with seasoned fries for him and I’ll take---

“Three buttermilk pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream with a side of scrambled eggs and cheese,” Peter interrupted knowingly, the couple making the waitress smile with their cute antics.

“Coming right up,” She replied, taking their menus and refilling their coffee carafe before returning to the kitchen with their order.

“I can’t believe that you’ve really been paying attention this whole time,” Rocket mused, shaking his head.

“Well apparently you were too,” Peter replied, lacing his fingers with Rockets and sipping his coffee.

“Yeah I got a decent memory; speaking of which, I seem to recall that we still got some business to take care of.” Rocket sighed, pulling a small data pad from the pocket of his suit and switching it on.

“Riiight. The parts you need for upgrading the thrusters and….. what else was it?” Peter asked, the technical lingo that Rocket had used the day prior lost to him.

“I want to work on the Milano’s stealth precision capability, specifically the warp core matrix. I figure with some modifications to some of these systems in relation to how we condense and burn dilithium with some alterations to our current quantum mechanics, I can increase not only the speed we can travel at; I can lessen the amount of fuel we need to do it as well.” Rocket replied with a smile, relishing the thought of going faster and traveling farther without having to burn up a shit-ton of dilithium to do it. This upgrade would not only make the Milano more efficient; it would be more cost-effective for the entire team. Peter studied the specifications on Rockets data pad and shook his head in wonder at the man’s brilliance and ingenuity.

“Nova Prime Rael is gonna wanna see this, its freaking genius Rocky!” Peter complimented, making Rockets face heat and the shells of his ears blush with reluctant pride.

“The mechanics and engineering are there for anyone to see,” He murmured, sipping his coffee and avoiding Peters gaze; he still wasn’t accustomed to this level of commendation.

“Yes they are, but I sure as hell didn’t see them, and if these modifications deliver anything close to the warp and stealth capabilities you describe, nobody else saw them either. Babe, this is a huge scientific breakthrough that you made, I’m proud of you,” Peter said enthusiastically, taking Rockets hand and forming their connection again, pouring all of his feelings of encouragement as well as his marvel of Rockets brilliance into it; showing his boyfriend that he was being altruistic. Rockets ear twitched and he reluctantly pulled away as their order arrived, clearing his throat while he poured syrup on his stack of pancakes.

“Got it; brain good.” He muttered, wrapping his tail around his knees; a sure sign that he was still reluctant to accept compliments.

“I always knew you weren’t just a pretty face Rocky,” Quill said with a wink.

Back out on the street after their meal, Peter messaged Drax and Gamora, letting the rest of their team know that they were heading to the Docking arena to meet with Rockets contact for the parts he needed. Gamora asked Peter if everything else was in order; which was basically code for ‘are you and Rocket together, or did you lose a few fingers.’

“Oh, we’re all good Gams,” Peter replied nonchalantly, but Rocket could read between the lines of the question and he face-palmed at the thought that Gamora of all people had been in on Quills attraction to him while he himself hadn’t a clue until Peter had told him.

The Nova Corps had taken it upon themselves to move the Milano into a more private section of the docking arena to avoid the crowds of visitors coming and going from Toltare 3 and give the infamous team some measure of privacy.

“Fortune has smiled upon you of late my old friend,” A voice called across the near empty stretch of cargo ramps, a hover-pallet appearing before the owner of the voice did.

“Yeah I aint doing too bad right now, leave it to you to try to jinx it.” Rocket replied, moving forward to shake hands with the Luphomoid in greeting.

“Peter, this is Harvax; Harvax, this is Peter Quill.” Rocket introduced as they shook hands in turn.

“Well, he’s not Groot, but he’ll do in a pinch I suppose,” Harvax joked good naturedly.

“Yeah, he’s sharper than he looks, eh Pete?” Rocket said, following Harvax over to the hover-pallet and beckoning Peter to follow them.

“You seem to think so,” Peter replied, greeted with the sight of rows of plasma inductor coils, sheets of metal, boxes of isolinear rods, and several rows of other ships components that Rocket was itching to get his hands on.

“I was also able to procure a new flux modulator as well as some other spare components that might interest you,” Harvax said, indicating the contents of the last crate. Rocket peered inside the crate, the sound of metal clinking against metal filling the vast space as he shifted its contents around.

“Yeah, I’ll throw ya……an extra 2,000 units?” Rocket asked, brushing his hands off with a shrug.

“That along with the schematics for my shield modulation upgrades as discussed and we can call this a deal,” Harvax agreed, handing Rocket his data pad to complete the transfer of units. Rocket handed the pad back to Harvax along with an isolinear rod he produced from the insert of his own data pad containing the schematics he was looking for. “Wonderful; its always a pleasure Rocket, Mr. Quill,” and with that he turned and strode back towards the main port of the docking arena.

“Where do you know that guy from again?” Peter asked curiously as Rocket placed a signal to the dock maintenance crew that they were ready to load their new purchases.

“Uhhhh…..Jail break 12? 13? They all jumble together after a while,” Rocket replied with a shrug.

“Rocket…..this transaction….it was above board, right?” Peter asked suddenly, the idea that Rocket might be dealing in black market goods crossing his mind.

“Yeah, yeah, it was legal Pete. Harvax used to work as one of the guards where me and Groot were being detained on Hala by the Kree. He was the only guard there that wasn’t a complete douchebag, plus it helped that he was bribable. Got him in touch with a friend of mine that owns a junking empire, and look at him now? Has his own freighter and crew and makes a killing; he never could have had what he has now on a Prison Guards salary, that’s for sure.” Rocket said, punching in his access code and boarding the Milano followed by Peter, who couldn’t help but be impressed by the hidden facets of Rockets life and personality.

“You’re full of surprises, you know that Rocky?” He asked fondly.

“Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet Baby Boo,” He replied with a wink as he followed Peter up to the bridge.


	5. Chapter 4: Confessions and Traditions

Chapter 4:

“So, this power coupling links with these isolinear rods to form the data processing matrix that helps the fuel modulator recalibrate and follow your new specifications? Did I say any of that correctly?” Peter asked scrunching his eyes in an adorable look of pensive curiosity.

“Yep. Geez Pete, you got this down pat already. I think you just lack the confidence in yourself to just pick up the tools and have a go at it. Which surprises me for how long you’ve been flying her,” Rocket replied as he knelt to remove another stretch of paneling adjacent from the one they had just finished working on. Peter looked on with barely concealed lust as Rocket knelt before him with his back turned, one of his customary navy-blue suits covering most of the plush fur that Peter was itching to run his fingers through. He smirked at the thought of what he had planned for them later when they indulged in their weekly movie night and Rocket caught his eye as he turned to retrieve his tools.

“Whatcha thinkin about Pete?” Rocket asked, a knowing glint in his eye as he played coy.

“How fucking sexy it is when you’re down here getting your hands dirty and how much I’d like to get the rest of you dirty to match.” Peter replied, squatting down behind his lover and planting a soft kiss behind one velvety ear. Rocket shivered at the husk in Peter’s voice and swallowed thickly, turning in the half-terrans embrace and catching his lips in a searing kiss; tasting him tentatively and slow. Peter moaned appreciatively into the kiss as he delved deeper still, grabbing blindly at the material of the front of Rockets suit and yanking him closer, the puff of a warm sigh escaping Peter’s nose to ruffle the fur on Rockets cheek. Rocket smiled and broke the kiss reluctantly, touching his forehead to Peters and placing his hands on his lovers chest to feel the intense rhythm of his heartbeat beneath his fingers.

“How the flarg am I gonna get any work done like this Pete?” He breathed, Peter’s unique scent and pheromones making his head swim.

“So being the Captains personal sex slave and lap warmer wouldn’t be considered a career option here?” Peter asked innocently; wearing his best sexy pout until Rocket burst out laughing and he chuckled along, nuzzling Rockets throat and losing himself to the spicy scent he found there.

“Peter, as much as I would love to accept such a position of high accolade and praise; this damn ship would be down around our ears in a month’s time without proper maintenance and you know it.” He replied with a reluctant sigh.

“For the first time in my life, and I cannot believe I’m saying this; I don’t really care.” Peter said, a shocked look on his face as the realization dawned on him.

“You’ll care when the warp core destabilizes and we’re all sucked into space on our way to our next job,” Rocket snickered, meticulously plucking out the isolinear rods with outdated data and replacing them with the newer ones.

“Rocket?” Peter asked softly

“Yeah?” He replied without halting in his process or turning around.

“Can you not say the word ‘Suck’ right now?” He whined, bumping the back of his head into the bulkhead behind him in frustration. Rocket snorted and shook his head at Peter’s expense, adjusting the recalibration settings and initializing the data processing matrix conversion.

“I said it before and I’ll say it again; you got issues Baby Boo,” Rocket told him, still unable to see exactly what Peter saw in him.

“Well, I definitely got an issue you can help me with right now, but I know you’re a little busy, so I’ll save it for later,” Peter sighed, trying to ignore the direction that his blood was currently rushing. Rockets ear twitched and he cleared his throat, his face heating as he caught his Boyfriends innuendo; a sidelong glance at Peter’s jeans told him all he needed to know, and he smirked shyly at the array of isolinear rods in front of him.

He was still getting used to Peter’s reaction to him and Peter’s reciprocated emotions, and an underlying nagging pull of doubt that remained just at the outer limits of it all. Surely this was temporary? Sure, they could go on like this for a little while; a few weeks, or a month or so? But there was bound to be someone eventually…… If not on the next planet they stopped to refuel at, then the next job they took, or the next time they reported to Nova Headquarters on Xandar. Some beautiful female, (or would it be a male this time?) would come waltzing in to deliver a defeating blow as they captured the great Starlord’s attention. Peter would be infatuated and distracted away as he dropped Rocket like a broken toy and moved on, and there on the floor is where he’d remain, curled into a fetal position; the product of an aborted fantasy left to fester into the dust of Peter’s pile of conquests. Something to be swept under the carpet and never thought of again; only Rocket wouldn’t really physically die, it would just be his heart and spirit that would be shattered, like on half-world in the Labs. Just another cowering lump of fur and limbs and glistening eyes in the dark; and there would be pain like there was on half-world too. Sharp and cutting, mindless and unmerciful in its singularity. A physical tremor ripped through Rocket, synapses mis-firing, nerve receptors chasing garbled impulses up and down his spine to explode in his cerebral cortex and he fell without an outward sign of warning; just an odd stiffening of his spine and faint tremors of his muscles to give Peter a split second warning before he was writhing on the floor, teeth clenched and limbs stiffly flailing. Peter dropped to his knees and was able to catch Rocket loosely in his arms before he hit his head on the panel he had removed from the wall moments before.

“Rocket?! Rocket come on baby! Come on, its okay,” Peter swallowed thickly, tears in his eyes as he knelt helplessly on the floor, pressing the emergency signal on his comm watch and running his fingers through the soft fur on Rockets cheeks and forehead in an attempt to bring him around.

“What happened?!” Gamora demanded breathily, snatching the med kit off the wall and coming to kneel beside Peter.

“I don’t know! We were just here talking, and he was switching out the isolinear rods and I asked him if he was looking forward to tonight, but he didn’t answer me! He just kind of stiffened up and fell,” Peter sobbed as another tremor ripped through Rocket and his head snapped back, causing Peter to cradle him helplessly in his lap as Gamora ran a tricorder over him in an attempt to diagnose his illness. Gamora dropped the tricorder and picked up a hypospray; searching through the various vials of medication until she located the right one and snapped it into the hypospray before pressing it to Rockets neck and delivering an emergent dose of Diazepam. The convulsions continued along Rockets spine, but the flailing of his limbs lessened as Gamora frowned at the tricorder reading in front of her.

“Gams, what’s happening to him?” Peter asked, at a loss for what he could do as a strange frothy vomit began to leak from the side of his mouth and Peter instantly pushed him onto his side in an attempt to prevent him from choking on it.

“Dammit Rocket,” Gamora muttered, raising to her feet with a sigh.

“Where are you going?!” Peter asked disbelievingly, thinking erroneously that she was simply returning to the bridge.

“What’s the override for Rocket’s quarters?” She asked as she attached a monitor to his tremoring arm, reading the vital signs it flashed at her.

“Meredith 88, Why?” Peter frowned in confusion, keeping Rocket on his side as another wave of convulsions struck. Gamora shook her head and ran, heading in the direction of crews quarters without further explanation.

“Come on Babe, its gonna be okay,” He murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss into his boyfriends fur lovingly. Rockets eyes slit open and Peter felt an entirely new and crushing wave of panic as the unfocused pupils rolled back to show white; a new round of spasms crawling up Rockets spine ratcheting him forwards by several inches.

Gamora burst back into the engine room, an unfamiliar and curiously modified hypospray in her hands as she clambered down beside them once again and pressed it to the back of Rockets neck, delivering a dose of bright green serum directly to the base of his cerebellum. The convulsions suddenly reduced greatly before stopping completely; but the monitor on Rockets arm blared shrilly, signaling a dangerous drop in Rockets blood pressure and oxygen saturation levels. Peter paused in his panic and closed his eyes, trying as Ego had shown him over a year ago to hone his energy to create celestial light at will. He struggled to clear his mind for a moment, the panic tightening his chest and the now seemingly boneless weight of Rocket sprawled half over his lap and half on the floor came sharp into focus in his mind. He could hear Gamora distantly as she rattled the vials around in the med kit and the monitor blared to signal Rocket slipping further into crisis, but Peter shut all of it out, willing the light to come. He felt the first surge of celestial energy more than he saw it; soft golden tendrils at the very peripheral of his nerves and sinews unfurling and stretching out towards his hands, then his fingertips, and finally, blessedly attaching themselves to Rocket; the golden gossamer strands meeting the soft and weakly flickering blue that was a part of Rockets new life force. Peter gasped at the jumble of emotions that met his consciousness as one large tangled wall; fear, pain, anxiety, anger, confusion, and grief hit him in waves threatening to pull him under until he pushed past them to the very center of Rockets mind only to be met by softer emotions of love, happiness, and tranquility; yet above all of this were what appeared to be tangled wiring where strange electrical impulses were firing and spitting sparks haphazardly in time with every strange jerking tremor that Peter was somehow still conscious of from Rockets physical body in his lap. Peter came forward slowly, laying his palms at the base of the tangles and willing the energy and light forward once more; relieved when the blue glow of Rockets own life force became stronger and stronger until both the blue and the gold became a supernova of white.

Peter came crashing back to the present, the Milano’s engine room bright with artificial light around him and Rocket in his arms and in his lap breathing deeply and beginning to stir, a tentative swish of his tail across Peters leg and his eyes blinked open slowly, squinting at the bright light above him.

“Shit Rocky….” Peter breathed, touching his forehead to Rockets in relief. Gamora sobbed and slide forward on her knees, taking the risk of bodily injury as she took Rockets hand into her own.

“Rocket, you stopped breathing for a couple minutes and you scared me to death! You forgot to take your medicine, didn’t you?” Gamora asked through her tears, holding up the modified hypospray and sniffling. Rocket froze, his eyes widening a fraction through his post seizure exhaustion as he saw the object she held in her hand.

“What medicine? Gamora, what are you talking about?” Peter asked cluelessly as he looked between Gamora and Rocket, waiting for an explanation. Rocket avoided Peters gaze as he made to sit up, but he fell back weakly, his muscles not cooperating due to the spasms he had suffered. Gamora lowered her gaze and laid the hypospray on Rockets work bench before rising to her feet once more.

“I’ll be on the bridge if you need me,” She said softly, returning the med kit to its proper place on the wall before excusing herself and exiting the engine room. 

“Rocket…..Babe, we need to get you cleaned up and get you in bed,” Peter said, willing to leave the topic of the hypospray for later. Rocket shifted out of Peters lap and struggled to his feet only to teeter dangerously and fall back once more into Peters arms.

“Rocket listen to me; just let me help you, okay?” Peter asked softly, knowing that Rocket’s pride and embarrassment were ruling his better judgement.

“I’m fine, I’ll be okay.” He insisted, the smell of his own vomit combining with the shame of his illness to make him try to escape from Peters presence as fast as he could.

“Yes, I agree that you’re going to be okay because I’ll be goddamned if you’re anything else Babe, but right now, you are decidedly not okay, and you need help before you hurt yourself; so stop being so damned stubborn and ornery and let me help you.” Peter insisted patiently, pocketing the mystery hypospray and lifting Rockets smaller frame easily, hoping that his Boyfriend wasn’t going to squirm around in protest. To the contrary, Rocket became boneless in his arms, unable to keep his eyes open as Peter carried him to his quarters to get cleaned up. Peter carefully laid Rocket on his bed and dug out a pair of clean pajama bottoms from Rockets dresser, turning back towards the bed, he was suddenly overcome by the look on his Boyfriends face; a mixture of exhaustion tainted by preoccupied worry. Rocket had drawn his knees up as far as they would go and wrapped his tail around them, not meeting Peters gaze as he approached the bed. Peter reached out and ran a hand down along Rockets arm and side before gently turning him over to face him.

“We gotta get you in the shower Hon,” He said softly, his eyes full of emotion as he cupped Rockets cheek in a trembling hand. Rocket lowered his gaze and nodded as Peter lifted him easily and took him to his small bathroom where he set him down carefully and waited until he was certain that Rocket had his footing before moving a short distance away and sitting on the toilet lid as Rocket undressed slowly and stepped into the sonic shower, sliding the door closed and powering it on.

“Hey Pete?” Rocket said finally as the sonic pulses massaged the sick from his fur and helped to clear his head.

“Yeah Babe?” He asked, hopping up anxiously.

“You uh…….You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I got it from here,” Rocket said quietly; and Peter immediately felt the wave of shame and sadness ebbing from his lover.

“Rocky, just hush and finish your shower so we can cuddle up in my bed and start the first movie, ok?” Peter replied, shaking his head as he felt Rockets emotions shift and the sadness lessen just slightly, and a bit of curiosity take its place. Peter smiled softly and wandered back into Rockets main quarters and took in the sight of his boyfriends living space. His eyes wandered over the half-finished projects lining Rockets desk; running his hand over the cool metal of a stacked telescoping blaster with a modified scope. He could easily picture his Boyfriend sitting here hunched over his projects, mods, and upgrades; immersed in his work as his talented dexterous fingers meticulously took apart and built, disassembled and modified and reassembled to his own specifications and essentially worked his genius. Peter often marveled at Rockets ingenuity when it came to the gadgets he thought up, envious of his intelligence even when they were under fire on a job. If there was one thing that Rocket could lay claim to, it was the ability to get their asses out of the tightest of corners at the most impossible of times. Peter leaned over to study a hastily sketched device that would enable them to temporarily alter an enemy ship’s dampening field and shield matrix when he heard Rocket softly clear his throat behind him.

“Are you building this yet?” Peter asked curiously, studying the half-assembled metal disk and the wires and coils that were trailing from it that lay beside the sketch.

“Eh, it’s a prototype. I’m still kind of debugging it and working out some of the kinks to be honest,” Rocket shrugged nonchalantly as though he were merely tweaking the ingredients of a simple recipe. Peter stared at him agape for a moment.

“Rocket, a prototype? Meaning that this is nearly in its testing stages?” He asked for clarification. Rocket paused and frowned, tilting his head to the side slightly as he wondered what the hell Peter was getting at.

“Well yeah…… that’s basically what a prototype is Pete, you know that,” He replied with another shrug, sitting gingerly at the foot of his bed.

“Rocket, I’ll never know where you come up with all of this.” He said, sitting next to him and pulling the mystery hypospray out of his pocket. Rocket visibly stiffened as Peter sighed and held the medical device out in front of him.

“Do you need another dose of this Babe?” He asked softly. Rocket lowered his head as he took the hypospray from Peter, dialed in a dose and pressed it to the back of his neck at the base of his cerebellum, flinching slightly when he administered the dose and a whoosh of ice-cold penetrated his fur and skin and temporarily created a numb patch of skin there; a side-effect of his life as an epileptic, and the epilepsy a side-effect of his modifications on half-world.

“Peter, I’m sorry about all of this shit….” He sighed, not really sure of what else he could possibly say.

“Really? Rocket, what the hell?” Peter asked, nonplussed as Rocket lowered his gaze and wrapped his tail around himself once more.

“Why in hell do you think that you need to apologize to me for getting sick?” he asked, placing a hand over Rockets own. Rockets head shot up in surprise as he met Peters gaze, the reaction Peter had was the last one that he had expected.

“Because, its….. its not normal, you know. I have all these fucking defects, I mean fuck, _I am_ a defect!” He exclaimed vehemently, his own frustration with himself getting the better of him as he tossed the hypospray onto his desk beside the blaster in a much less than gentle manner.

“Rocket, that’s not true!” Peter argued, standing to face him.

“It is true! What the fuck is wrong with you Pete? I mean, ya know, I joke around that you got issues and shit, but-

“Oh fuck that, Rocket. Why can’t you ever just trust me? I swear, its like every time I think that I’m making any headway and that you’re actually going to let me in, you push me back out again! Rocket, I love you! Why can’t you just believe that? I’ve shown you, haven’t I? What other way—

“Oh please Quill, save it! You don’t need to waste all of your best lines on me, okay? I get it, I know what’s going on here, more than you do. You might not even realize it yet, but this is gonna get old for you after a while. I’m not some gorgeous piece of Xandarian ass that can just get dropped off at the next dilithium refueling station!” Rocket shouted, his tail twitching irritably as he balled his hands into fists.

“Don’t fucking do that!” Peter said, jabbing a finger heatedly in his direction and catching Rocket completely off-guard.

“Do _what?”_ He asked, looking genuinely confused.

“Call me ‘Quill’! We aren’t back-tracking here just because you’re afraid that I might actually genuinely love you, which I fucking do. God, this is so ridiculous! Rocket, whatever is wrong, whatever this is, we can work through it. I want to be with you, but you scared me half to death earlier because I had no idea what happened to you! I can’t believe that you let Gamora know about this, but you decided to keep it from me. If you’re sick, then I want to help you and in order to help you and be there for you, I need to know what’s wrong; and come here and sit down again and stop yelling because I don’t want you to make it worse,” Peter said, taking a seat on the bed again and gesturing for Rocket to do the same. Rocket sighed and sat down beside Peter once more, wondering why in the universe Peter wanted to put up with him.

“Gamora found out by accident because she walked into the cargo hold and saw Groot helping me after an episode,” Rocket began, his voice somehow hollow, yet full of shame all at once.

“What kind of an episode?” Peter asked, unable to keep the concern from his voice.

“I have epilepsy due to the implants in my skull. I take this injection twice a day, but we got busy yesterday between retrieving the artifact and pulling off the getaway and then us going out. I just didn’t really think about it much and then when I hit my head at the club, I don’t think that helped any; in fact I’m thinking I may have had some internal swelling leftover that wouldn’t have effected someone without my condition, but it definitely did affect me.” Rocket confessed, his hands fiddling nervously with the drawstrings of his pajama bottoms.

“Okay, so you need to take your medication to avoid a seizure. I think I remember having a friend on Terra that I went to school with having the same condition, believe it or not. So, we need to follow a schedule for you to take your injections and we need to always have this hypospray close by or at least know where it is in your quarters at all times. Which I’m guessing Gamora knew where to find it since she came back to the engine room so quickly?” Peter asked him. Rocket swallowed and sighed, rising from his place beside Peter and grabbing his toolbox from his desk, touching a hidden lever and revealing the small compartment where his medicine was normally kept.

“I showed this to Gamora after Groot….. ya know, after. She said that she’d keep my secret as long as it didn’t effect my safety or well-being; so she kept her word all this time, I just had to go and fuck up though,” He sighed, plunking the toolbox back onto the desk and returning the hypospray to its proper hiding place within it.

“Rocket, you didn’t ‘fuck up’. You can’t help that you have epilepsy, that would be like me apologizing for having blue eyes or Gamora apologizing for having green skin; it’s just a part of who you are Babe. It sucks that you have this condition that you have to live with, but it doesn’t detract from who you are; it doesn’t make me love you any less. You do understand that, right?” Peter asked him softly, feeling an ache in his chest at the painfully dejected look on Rockets face.

Rocket shrugged and sighed, not really knowing what else he should do or say; he knew that Peter would get bored with him eventually, wouldn’t he? Wasn’t it only a matter of time? Should he ride this out and take whatever time he could get even though it would kill him that much more when Peter did eventually move on? Or should he end it here and now; just thank Peter for the best day of his life yesterday and the best morning of his life today and call it quits before things got any further out of control than they already were? Could their friendship be salvaged here at all? Could there still be the intergalactic pub crawl and movie nights and God, could he ever look at Peter again without thinking about how fucking delicious he looked when he was above him and inside of him; muscles rippling beneath all of that tanned sensitive Terran flesh, azure eyes shining with love and lust as he made love to Rocket; because that’s what Peter had done twice now. He hadn’t made Rocket feel like some cheap and petty pity-fuck that left a stale taste in his mouth when they were curled together afterwards. Peter had made him feel like a Man; had made him feel worthy and desirable and equal. He had taken all of the pieces of Rocket, all of the broken and rusted shards into his hands and had allowed Rocket to cut into him, to tear into his flesh again and again and he risked this stinging and barely bearable injury with no hope for anything in return besides the feel of Rocket in his arms and the presence of Rocket in his life. Could Peter possibly be batshit crazy enough to want him for the long haul? Were all of those projected feelings that he had shown Rocket; that glimpse inside his soul as he bared everything that he was and risked Rockets smartass jibes, was all of it possibly good enough to be true? Had Rocket really finally not taken a shit in some distant God’s Cherrios here? Was something finally going to go right for once in his crap existence? Although, if he thought about all of this (again, chronologically) his life had been becoming marginally better the longer Peter was in it, even before yesterday; even when they were just friends……

“What’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours Rocky?” Peter asked softly, breaking into his thoughts of confused self-deprecation.

“I’m thinking about how to improve the hydraulics on the docking bay doors,” He replied, pulling the first project that he could from the many he had on the back burner in his mind so to speak.

“You know, you’re a terrible liar Babe,” Peter said with a smirk, pulling Rocket down to the bed and kissing his cheek and jaw, cupping his softly furred face in both hands as he looked into Rockets eyes.

“You’re a shitty mind reader, what’s your point?” Rocket jibed in return, brushing his tail along Peters denim covered leg.

“But not so terrible at reading your eyes and your body language and seeing that something is bothering you, so fess up Darlin’” Peter said as he laced their fingers together again.

“Pete I…. I just don’t understand why you want this so bad,” He confessed running his fingers over the fabric of one of Peters much loved t-shirts. Peter sighed and pulled Rocket closer, his eyes a mixture of honesty and very raw emotion as he gazed down at Rocket and brushed his fingertips along Rockets whiskers and down his throat, not pausing as he came into contact with the cool and smooth metal of one of his lovers cybernetic implants and the textured scarred skin surrounding it.

“I’ve shown you what I can show you physically and some of what I can show you emotionally and I wish that I could completely explain the way that I feel about you. I wish that I could share each and every nuance of the what and the where and the why; but if I’m being honest Rocky, love just doesn’t work that way. There’s a lot of mystery and confusion and questions and soul-searching and I’ll never have all the answers that you’re looking for unfortunately, but I hope that one day we can get to a place in our relationship where you’ll simply stop looking for them. All that I can tell you is that somewhere along the way I woke up one morning and realized that my entire universe had relocated into four feet and five inches of amazingly sexy and superiorly brilliant sarcastic bastard and I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Peter said with a sweet smile that took Rockets breath away.

A half an hour later, they were holed up in Peters quarters stretched out on his bed with the holoprojector playing The Shining and a huge bowl of popcorn mixed with snowcaps and raisinettes between them.

“Geez this broad is annoying! Please tell me she ends up dying at some point?” Rocket huffed, half-tempted to throw a handful of popcorn at the holoprojected image of Wendy Torrence crying and stumbling through The Overlook Hotel.

“Uh, I kinda don’t want to give you spoilers here Babe.” Peter replied, taking a sip of soda and frowning when Rocket began laughing at Jack Torrence chopping through the bathroom door with the axe.

“Get her Jack! Get her!” He urged, an anticipatory glint shining in his eyes.

“Damn, I gotta get me one of those! What are they called again?” Rocket asked, motioning towards the axe as it finally splintered through the flimsy wood of the door and Wendy Torrence screamed.

“That’s an axe Rocky, and I don’t think that’s such a good idea. You’re kind of scary sometimes Babe, you know that?” Peter asked as Rocket sighed in frustration when she managed to get away again.

“Hey, I’m just saying it could come in handy now and then. Tons of annoying motherflargers in the galaxy, yeah?” Rocket replied with a shrug, making Peter chuckle and shake his head.

By the end of the movie an hour later, Rocket was supremely annoyed that Mrs. Torrence had escaped unscathed.

“They killed off the best character! I mean, come on!” He exclaimed as Peter’s shoulders shook with laughter.

“Babe, maybe the next movie will be a little more to your taste?” Peter asked as the opening credits of Zombieland flashed across the holoprojector.

“If you’re trying to prank me with another Rom-com Pete, I can’t promise you’ll be safe from bodily harm!” Rocket warned, referring to Peter making him sit through Ghost as a prank about two months prior which had lead to Rocket rigging Peter’s chair on the bridge to spontaneously eject its occupant whenever Rocket activated the hidden control at his station.

“Rocket, the name of the damned movie is Zombieland! How the hell could you think that it would be a romantic comedy?!” Peter asked, nonplussed.

“Isn’t that the same place you said your Mom took you to when you were five?” Rocket asked in confusion.

“That was Disneyland! Oh my God Babe!” Peter was now crying with laughter at his boyfriends expense, barely able to breathe.

“Well, I knew it was something Land.” Rocket mumbled defensively, popping another handful of chocolate and popcorn into his mouth.

“Yeah, only one is like the happiest place on Terra and the other is decidedly not,” Peter replied, wiping the tears from his eyes and trying to regain his composure.

“Oh crap! Is that chic trying to eat his scrawny ass? Sweet!” Rocket laughed, nearly falling off the bed when Columbus used the top of the toilet tank to kill 406; leading to the ‘Double Tap’ rule.

“See? I knew you’d like this one,” Peter said with a shrug.

“Like it? That rule is officially being adopted into our mission statement!” He gasped through his chortles.

“Get over here you crazy asshole,” Peter said, moving the nearly empty popcorn bowl out of the way and pulling his boyfriend closer to his side. Rocket snorted at Peter and snuggled into the crook of his shoulder to watch the movie, looking a bit more impressed with Columbus when he saw the size of the gun the kid was packing.

“Huh…… maybe this won’t suck.” He shrugged as Peter leaned in closer to kiss the and nip the side of his neck.

“Now what did I say about using that word earlier?” He husked into Rockets ear, producing a shiver from him as their lips collided once more.


End file.
